


Swing Music is Shit

by Hibernation_Reader_Ree (hoe_whisperer)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus just wants what's best for the greater good bless his soul he tries, Dumbledore may or may not be a stoner, F/M, Harry is a Little Shit, Hermione is always right, Hermione is not up for anyone's shit, Hufflepuff, I'm shit at tagging???, M/M, Orion Black is an accidental meme lord, Ravenclaw, Ron will square up beware, Ronald doesn't know what McDonald's is, Slytherin, Time Travel, Tom Riddle Era, Tom Riddle is a hot mf, Tom Riddle is an edge lord, Tom is a little evil but hella hot and snarky, Walburga Black scares me, dippy gets stressed out, especially Harry, just pointing out because dam, like little shit™, move aside Waldo where is his nose?, neither will Harry, please let Orion eat his salad in peace, so much swearing I seriously can't help myself, still killed Harry's parents whoops, swing music is shit, the sorting hat won't stop squaring up, they are all sarcastic shits, those sexy slits Voldy calls a nose did not make the cut, try and McBash Ron in my works I McDare you, we can still talk about them tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 22:52:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15375156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoe_whisperer/pseuds/Hibernation_Reader_Ree
Summary: When Harry notices a familiar looking boy in Slytherin, Harry decides that he has definitely fucked up. He hasn't may of fucked up. He hasn't even definitely fucked up. Harry has Fucked Up, capital F and U. He has Fucked Up Bad.(Pretty cracky fic tbh, try and stop me. There still is a plot tho.)The trio accidentally go back in time to the 1940s, where Tom Riddle is a hot bastard that must be stopped.(How noticeable is it that I'm shit at summaries? :) xx)And Oh My God, he has a nose.





	1. Harry gets Squared up by a Hat

**Author's Note:**

> I know Orion wasn't chilling around when Tom was in school but I can't find the fucks I give tbh. I need my accidental meme lord and Walburga, in all her beautiful and absolutely terrifying glory. 
> 
> Since there is not a lot of information about Tom Riddle's Era at school (they're seriously isn't, like omg research for this story did not go down well, quite a lot of the characters are guessed to what I think would be most likely and all, except from Orion and Walburga ig but I already explained that whole thing) then it is nearly impossible to keep this story canon compliant since there is no canon shit to...comply? to. I try tho I swear. 
> 
> Also, since this fic while be quite crackly tbh it's even harder to to make it compliant. I fuck you not, I full heartedly believe that Albus is defo a stoner so that will probably be joked about in this fic. Yeah, I see that twinkle in your eye and all the wise bullshit you say as what it really is, and that is, in the words of a legend, smoke weed everyday.

Harry, (and no, Harry does not believe that he is a dumbass, thank you very much Hermione) may have fucked up. If accidentally getting Ron, Hermione and himself stuck in the 1940s, a time without the Vengaboys, anything worth living for, and music that may be even more boring than a Professor Binns history lesson where he'd drone on about Medieval Assembly of European Wizards (whoever decided that swing music was the shit this decade is the true dumbass to be honest) counts as fucking up, then yeah, Harry may of fucked up. 

But, when you think about it, technically, Harry is an innocent victim to Hermione's unbelievable, and frankly, inconsiderate superiority when it comes to intelligence, and her need to take far too many extra classes the past year, leading to the presence of a time-turner. 

How should Harry know not to use a spell on a time-turner when it's having a stroke? Exactly, he shouldn't! To be honest, as much as Harry hates to say it, the only person to blame really is Hermione. Harry is simply a bystander.

Or maybe he can blame himself for his instincts. Instinctive seems like a more accurate word to use than dumbass, not like Harry's insistence of that fact (yes, fact) is stopping the other two from whining about him being a dumbass. 

Spending the whole Summer with Hermione and Ron fending for themselves, doing research to find a believable back story for the three to tell the current headmaster of Hogwarts, Professor Dippet, was not the summer he was expecting to have this year. 

At points, Harry has considered if staying at the Dursley's would have been a better option. Realistically though, it's like having to choose between stepping on a horse's shit, or a vegan's shit. Who really knows? Harry did, the Dursley's were definitely the vegan shit. 

The trio currently resided in the office of Professor Dippet, the three seated across from him. Hermione, the manipulative shit she could be, was already pulling out the recently orphaned face. Harry, never an orphan to be out done, did the same. 

'I am sorry to hear about the lost of your parents, as well as the destruction of your village.' Professor Dippet sympathises, 'We would be glad to accept three more students into our year fours.' 

'Thank you, Professor.' The three mutter back. 

'You have no idea how much this means to us, after everything that has happened to us, our parents and our homes, Professor...' Harry whispers. Ron barely manages to resist rolling his eyes. 

Unsure of how to answer such a heart filled comment, Mr Dippet replies with, 'Please, call me Dippy.' 

'No.'

 

It was humiliating, being sorted after the First Years. The trio were standing behind a group of anxious looking Year ones who were being called up for the sorting. 

'I bet we look like a bunch of bloody pedos.' Ron groans loudly. Loudly enough for a close by Year 1 to shuffle foward, the furtherest away they could get from the trio. 'Everyone staring at us is not really helping.'

Nodding in agreement, Harry scans the crowd of Hogwarts students who were intrigued by the idea of new students joining at such a late time. When Harry notices a familiar looking boy in Slytherin, Harry decides that he has definitely fucked up. He hasn't may of fucked up. He hasn't even definitely fucked up. Harry has Fucked Up, capital F and U. He has Fucked Up Bad.

Sat there, lightly smirking at a Harry who was gaping at his direction, is Tom Riddle, the hot motherfucker. Harry is screwed. 

Barely raising his head, Riddle gives Harry a small nod, and Oh My God he has a nose.

Before he can react, the back of his neck is viciously attacked by Hermione's hand. 'Last Year 1, start paying attention.' Wincing from Hermione's bitch of a neck slap, Harry nods, deciding to tell them about the Riddle problem after the sorting and feast.

In the end, four first years were crying after the sorting of the Year 1 was over, and the rest of the kids had a haunted expression, clearly shaken up. 'What is the hat doing to these kids? Jesus.' Ron mumbles, eyes squinted at the hat.

'Evans, Harry!' Potter being too recognisable of a second name in the wizarding world meant that Harry had to take up his mother's maiden name, instead of his own surname. Granger, the lucky shit, being muggleborn meant that she could keep her birth surname, whereas Ron had to change his to Winfield. 

Slowing stalking up to the stoll, Harry sits down, before hurriedly putting on the sorting hat. 

'So, boy, I see that you have fucked up quite badly.' Gaping, Harry can't help but be shocked by the fact that the sorting hat just swore. 'Did those assholes filter me in the future?!' Harry simply nods his head slowly in response. 'Weak ass bitches, tampering with me.' 

'Of course the sorting hat is a bitter shit in the 1940s.' Harry muses to himself. 

'Oh, fight me bitch. I'm delightful to be around. Compared to me you're nothing, asshole.' 

'Fuck you too.' Harry informs the hat under his breath.

'Well, you are clearly not a Ravenclaw, you little dumbass.' The sorting hat spits. 

'Instinctive.' Harry insists, rolling his eyes. 

'Sure, dumbass.' 

'Such a prick.'

'What do you expect from me, baby dick! I'm more than a thousand years old! All you pussies are dirt compared to me. I used to be on the Godric Gryffindor's head constantly! I was sorting people into houses way before anyone in this room bloody balls dropped! I decide your fucking future, every mother fucking students future! I own all of you bitches. Every year I waste away, thinking of a new fucking song to sing for the the first feast of the year and only getting polite applause from those Slytherin assholes back. I bet you're a Slytherin asshole, baby dick. Politely clap away, bitch. Politely clap away.' 

'Bite me, you ancient fuck!' Harry yells back. 

'SLYTHERIN! Deal with that, baby dick.' 

'Oh, suck my dick!' Harry hisses, yanking off the sorting hat and throwing it to the ground, before stomping over to the Slytherin table. Harry was pretty certain he could see Hermione was face palming, Ron not even attempting to hide that he was howling with laughter, while the other students and staff members were staring at the sorting hat, that was crumbled over the floor, in shock. 

Still glaring, Harry plops onto the end of the Slytherin table, the furthest away from Tom he could be, and drops his head on the table while groaning. 

'Granger, Hermione!' 

Eyes narrowed in determination, Hermione strides over to the hat. Picking the sorting hat up, she frowns while brushing dust and dirt off it, before sitting and placing it over her head. 

Immediately the hat shouts, 'RAVENCLAW!' Removing the sorting hat, with a stoic expression she walks over to the Ravenclaw table and sits down. 

'Winfield, Ronald!' 

After a few seconds, the hat comes to a decision. 'HUFFLEPUFF!' 

'What?! You can't be serious?!' Ron blurts, eyes widening in horror. 'Oh great, I'm getting bullied!' 

Harry was certain this time that Hermione was definitely face palming. 

Head hung, Ron shuffles over to the Hufflepuff table, and takes a seat bitterly talking to himself. 'Better make sure not to drop any soap from now on...' 

Professor Dippet stands up with a pained expression, and claps his hands together. 'Now that was an...' Dippy pauses to pinch his nose and sigh before continuing, '-interesting sorting. I would like to say welcome to all new students that have joined Hogwarts this year, and give a welcome back to all returning students and staff. And may the feast, commence!'

Before Harry can dig into his meal, he is interrupted by Hermione scolding, 'You told the sorting hat to suck your dick. What the fuck, Harry?' 

'The hat called me baby dick.' Harry sneers, frowning at his empty plate. 

'Baby dick?'

'Baby dick.' 

Shaking her head in disbelieve she replies, 'Lets go and sit with Ron at Hufflepuff, the Hufflepuff students will probably be fine with us sitting there.' Hermione declares. 

'Alright.' As Harry is about to stand up, a hand lands on his shoulder stopping him. 

'Apologies, would you mind if I borrow Harry for a second?' Tom Riddle, the shit, requests, not looking apologetic at all. The absolute shit. 

Eyes narrowing, Hermione nods begrudgingly. 'Alright, talk to you later Harry.' 

When Hermione is gone, Tom removes his hand away, instead putting his elbow down onto the table, and placing his chin onto his knuckles, eyes darting to stare at Harry face. 

After a few seconds of Harry ignoring Tom's presence, he snaps. 'You obviously get your eyebrows plucked. I see through you, bitch.' 

Riddle simply raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him, 'What the fuck are you on about, Evans?'

Harry huffs in annoyance before abruptly standing up. 'Never trust a person that gets their eyebrows plucked. It obviously means they can't feel any pain and have no soul.' He spits, before marching over to the Hufflepuff table. Harry only stops when his name is called. Looking over his shoulder he eyes Tom cautiously. 'What?' 

'Just wanted to say welcome to Slytherin,' Pausing, the corner of his lip twitches up. '-baby dick.' 

Harry just continues to walk away and lifts up his middle finger in response. He can't help but mutter to himself in shock, 'Oh My God, he has a nose.'

Sitting next to Ron, Harry observes him angrily chewing into a chicken leg. Mouth full he grumbles. 'I can seriously see the twins in front of me, laughing their fucking ass's off.'

'You're such a pig, Ronald.' 

'Shove off, bird bitch. You didn't get put into the pussy house. I bet you aren't even allowed to talk to me anymore. We may as well get a head start when it comes to the status quo.'

'Calm down, so you can actually make friends. We're alone in our houses, we need to try and get along with them.' Hermione gives Harry a look after she says that, as if to say, 'Don't fuck us over, like I'm certain you will.'

'Don't give me that look. I'm not going to get along with those cunts for a good reason. I need to tell you guys something in private.' Harry urges. 

Ron and Hermione nod at Harry before Ron continues to complain. 'I kid you fucking not, the sorting hat said to me, 'Drapes, now aren't you a loyal fuck?'.' He cries miserably, ripping another chunk off the chicken leg. 

Ron does not fail to elbow Harry side when he snorts with laughter.

 

'Does it look like I pluck my eyebrows?' 

'I see you've quickly recovered from that brutal brushing off from the new guy then.' 

'Shut up, Black. Just answer me. Eyebrows, plucked, what's up with that?' 

Orion simply shrugs. 'Well, do you?'

'Of course he does, look at them.' Avery points out. 'Like those eyebrows are natural.' 

Lestrange nods in agreement. 'Genetics may have blessed him, but honestly, no genetics can have such raw power to shape eyebrows like that naturally.' 

'Raw power? We're talking about eyebrows, not a spiritual journey.' Orion interjects, looking at Lestrange in distaste. 

Lestrange just grins at Orion. 'Those eyebrows are a spiritual journey to be in the presence of, as for as I'm concerned, Black.' 

Tom just rolls his eyes at his friends antics and gives up on getting an answer that he finds satisfactory from them.

 

Sat down in his office chair, Professor Dippet rubs at his forehead, lost in thought. Those three new students were interesting to say the least. Though he knows he should of be more strict around them, Dippet couldn't help but feel sympathetic about what he knows of the poor children. He couldn't help but think of how they lost everything whenever he saw them. 

The portraits of past headmaster had certainly not been helping with the stress of the new circumstances. 

Hearing another portrait mocking him by hollering, 'Can I call you Dippy?!', Dippet let's out a pained groan and slouches further into his chair.


	2. The Trio Lowkey Square up to Slytherine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry just doesn't want Slytherin to snipe his ass. Hermione does not sympathise. Ron is still a mood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda still not happy with this chapter but I just need to get it out to get the plot going. Sorry if y'all think it's shit. #StartTheMyrtleLove2k18 btw

Harry is sat at the Slytherin table, gazing longingly at the other house tables. None of those tables are occupied by any inspiring murderous tyrants. Maybe a few people that sat at the other houses tables are hipsters, which is admittedly nearly unbearable to be around. But, which is better in the end, murderous tyrants with no remorse or people who have their toe nails painted black in an attempt of edginess?

Yet, needing to actually be able to access where he sleeps, Harry has needed to move back to the Slytherin table and wait to be lead to his sleeping chambers. When Harry suggested plans of sleeping arranges which included sneaking into the great hall at night and not getting his throat stabbed into while sleeping, Hermione, always one to be there for him and give good advice, just told him to "Suck it up, butterfuck.".

Shifting his gaze over to the staff table, he scans the current staff. He narrows his eyes at the chair that would normally be occupied by Ms McGonagle currently being taken by a man. Instantly, Harry has a realisation about the man. He can tell that fucker is stoned right now. Eyes glazed, and engaging in conversation with what appears to be a spoon, it isn't a hard conclusion for Harry to come to. 

"He's the Professor of Transfiguration." Harry turns to see that it is a Slytherin boy who has informed him of that fact. 

Harry, having a wonderful filter, sarcastically says in reply. "Nice ponytail."

Clearly bored at Harry's antics already, the boy simply deadpans, "Nice glasses, four eyed. They don't make you look like a retard at all."

"Right, five things. First of all, fuck you. I'm sorry that I am visually impaired, you inconsiderate cunt. Two, what's that Professors name? Three, is he actually high right now? Four, what is your name?"

He raises an eyebrow at Harry, "What about five?"

"Five is number one repeated, fuck you ponytail."

"Right." He drawls. "One, I'm making fun of your fashion choice in particular, not the fact that you need glasses. Two, that's Albus Dumbledore, I don't doubt that you have heard about him before. Three, when isn't he? Four, my name is Orion, from the noble and most ancient house of Black. Five, your glasses still look retarded."

"Your face is retarded."

Orion gives Harry a blank look. "Sure. I was told to lead you to where you are staying." Turning on his heal, he begins to stride out of the great hall. "Keep up, retarded glasses."

Harry gets up to follow him, catching up to Orion he mumbles to himself, "Maybe I shouldn't have complained about being referred to as dumbass..."

 

"You will be staying in the same dorm as me." Orion informs Harry. "The room has other occupants, apart from being you and I, there is Riddle, Lestrange and Avery."

"Lucky me." Harry replies drily. Landing with what is most likely worse possible sleeping arrangements, Harry is proud that he did not flip off whatever higher power that enjoys fucking with his poor soul so much, the sick bastard.

"If you snore, use a silencing charm, or anyone who shares the dorm is entitled to gag you in your sleep if you keep us awake. I'd recommend showering before Lestrange, and leaving for breakfast as quickly as you can when you are done. No one should have to endure his singing voice." Orion turns to meet Harrys' eyes, and lowers his voice. "Most importantly, don't be an annoying little bitch. If you are one, you will not do well in Slytherin."

There was one big problem with that rule for Harry. He was not merely some annoying little bitch, he was an annoying as fuck bitch. Instead of voicing his doubts, Harry gives Orion a small thumbs up. "Will do, sir." 

"Introduction is over, I am done giving any fucks about your presence now. Try not to lose us house points retarded glasses." With those final words, Orion opens the dorm door and strolls over to his bed. He proceeds to lie down and close his beds curtains with a lazy flick of his wand. 

Harry decides to follow Orion's course of actions, and go to his bed. (Not because he was a pussy and wanted to avoid seeing Tom. Not at all.) 

 

Living with the Dursley's, Harry is used to being awoken from him sleep by the sound of people being complete wankers. Being in the 1940s seems to not be enough to derail this tradition. 

"Oi, new boy, time to get up!"

"Lestrange, it's too early to be that loud, shut up you absolute prat."

"Avery, I swear to god I would pummel you in a fight you prick."

"Do you guys mind not being annoying for just one morning?" Orion asks, voice laced with irritation.

"Nah." The Lestrange boy chirps. 

Harry decides it's too early for this shit, and buries his head deeper into his pillow and draws his cover tighter around him. His plan is corrupted when the covers are yanked away from him. Hesitantly, Harry looks up to see a boy grinning down at him wildly and holding up his cover in the air as if obtaining it was his greatest feat yet. 

Harry blinks up at him before mumbling out, "Fuck you."

The boy simply shrugs and skips over to another boy who was in the room with sandy blonde hair.

"Rise and grind, retarded glasses, Lestrange is right to wake you up before Tom gets back." Orion remarks, putting his tie on. 

"Tom will practically shit himself if he finds out one of us aren't up and ready by this time. The God of punctuality would not be happy with you." Lestrange explains cheerfully. 

"More like make us shit ourselves." 

"Not everyone is a pussy like you Avery." 

"Everyone is piss scared of Tom, including myself. Don't kid yourself Lestrange. If you genuinely are not intimidated by him, then you are clearly as much of an imbecile as I first thought you were." Orion states before he heads for the door and leaves. 

The boys who remain stayed in silence after Orions' rant for a few seconds, before Harry interrupts it, confusion clear in his voice, and asks, "What the fuck does rise and grind mean?" 

 

"You need to take me to the Slytherin table. Please, Harry." Hermione pleads the second Harry sits across from her at the Ravenclaw table. 

"I'd rather die." Harry deadpans. "You know what, scratch that, the reason I don't want to go there is because I don't want to die! I refuse to be near any of the people I'm rooming with when a knife is in close proficiency." 

"I have a reason to be there, dumbass. Take me now." She demands. 

"To be fair, you aren't the one who has to sleep around them." Ron points out, while he piles bacon onto his plate. 

"You both need to get your heads out off your ass, being in Slytherin doesn't make you some lord of darkness. The founders of Hogwarts didn't just make a house for spooky evil kids, for fuck sake."

"You're making Slytherin sound weirdly kinky, 'lord of darkness'." Ron frowns, disgust evident in his voice. 

"It's the Riddle gang, of course they're spooky evil shits." Harry scoffs, shaking his head. As far as Harry was concerned, he was living with the spawns of the Devil. "Spooky evil shits that I am not eating with."

Hermione looks around where they were sitting before lowering her voice. "Exactly, they are the Riddle gang. Not the death eaters yet. Stop being a little extra bitch, you absolute fucktwit, and take me to that god damn table so I have an excuse to be there, so I can save our bloody behinds."

"Fine, you fucking gremlin." 

Smirking in satisfaction, Hermione stands up. "Lead the way, butterfuck."

"God, can people just start calling me solely Harry again?! Dudley yelling 'Orphan Twat' the anniversary of my parents death at me was better than this shit! Also, calling me butterfuck randomly doesn't even work without the suck it up line context, it just sounds like I wank off to margarine! It's-"

A loud slam of a book shutting interrupts Harry ranting, the trio turn around to the sight of a girl stomping off to another table. 

After a few seconds of no one talking, Ron shivers, and exclaims, "We don't know what you get up to, or want to!"

"Jesus Christ, I don't get up to-"

"Come on, guys." Hermione urges.

"Wait, 'guys'!? Don't drag me into this shit. I'm not a Slytherin, me joining in isn't necessary, I'm happy staying here and fucking staying alive."

Ron resolve to stay crumbles at the irritated look Hermione sends him. "Actually, you know what? I would love to see the Slytherin table up close. That table design looks bloody brilliant. Honestly, I'm buzzing to inspect it up close. I'm pretty sure it's Mahogany. I am always one to be up for a good old Mahogany table. Let's head lads!"

"Seriously, Ron?" Harry snorts. 

Ron shrugs, not an ounce of shame or mortification clear in any of his body language. "Like fuck any house is more terrifying than the wrath of Hermione."

Hermione impatiently tugs at her hair while glowering at Harry and Ron. "Hurry up already!"

"Fair enough, mate."

 

Tom can't help but raise his eyebrows in surprise when Harry sits next to, obviously anger and glares down at the table. He looked like a 4 year old that had just been told to go to his room for bed as punishment for refusing to put his toys away. Riddle stares at him expectantly waiting for a response, but Harry simply continues to glower down at the table. 

Releasing a sigh, he turns his expectant stare to the boy who sat next to Harry and the girl who was next to Black. 

"Is there any particular reason as to why you three are sitting here?"

Tom barely managed to hear Harry mutter, "I must of been a murderer in a past life." Suddenly yelping, Harry begins to rub his knee and sends a short glare to the girl. "My friends wanted to meet the people who are in my house. The girl is Hermione Granger, and the boy is called Ron Winfield."

Tom nods at the both at them. "I'm called Tom Riddle. Next to me is Orion Black. That is Adonis Avery. The one who you are probably thinking is unhinged is Rabastan Lestrange. That is Dewey Dolohov. Next to him is Theodore Nott. Across from Nott is Oliver Mulciber."

"So, you three are mudbloods then?" Lestrange asks pleasantly, buttering a piece of toast. He was acting as if he was asking about the weather. 

"No need to ask Rabastan." Mulciber pipes up. "I can tell their filthy blood from over here. It's like my sixth sense." 

Avery rolls his eyes at Mulciber, "People say that the sixth sense is extrasensory perception, but sure Oliver, yours is being a racist cunt."

"Fuck off muggle lover, go fuck a telephone."

Harry can't help but scoff, "That's rich. How about you go and fuck one of your cousins to honour all of that pureblood families tradition of inbreeding you creepy bunch of bastards have got going on."

"Half blood." Oliver sneers at Harry, causing Ron to abruptly stop sniggering under his breathe. 

"What?"

"You're halfblooded. The girl is full mudblood and the ginger one is just off. It's if you are pure blood and muggleborn at the same time." Noticing the shocked expression of Harry and Ron, Oliver grins. "It's impressive, right? It is like I can smell out worthlessness. Not to worry though, you guys will be kicked out for low marks eventually, mudbloods always do." 

Leaning back, Hermione hums. "I'd appreciate you not using terms like worthlessness when referring to me. Also, muggleborn or not, I full heartedly believe that I will receive better results than you at the end of the year." 

"Like hell your filthy blood heritage will manage to be good enough to beat my results." Oliver spits, shaking his head at Hermione direction. 

Hermione smirks lightly at Mulciber. "We'll see."

'You know, Mulciber, I have a sixth sense too.' Harry snarls.

"You do?" Ron replies, overly enthusiastic. 

Harry grins at Ron. "I do indeed! Believe it or not, I can smell out assholes." 

"I'm not too sure if I can believe such talent is real, Harry!" Ron chirps back. 

"You want prove?! I'll give you proof." Harry points at Mulciber. "My boy Oliver, I'm gonna be honest here..." Resting his chin on his knuckles a shit eating grin spreads on his face. "You absolutely fucking stink." 

"Oh, shut up mudblood!" 

Sighing in aspiration, Tom raises a hand to silence the argument. "Personally, I prefer to not associate with mudbloods. Yet, there is nothing we can do to change the presence of Harry, Hermione and whatever that is for the next few years. Stop whining like little bitches about it, and shut the fuck up for once Mulciber. I barely manage to endure your annoying ass on most days, do not become any worse or I swear to God I will find a way to dispose of you that leaves no evidence of my involvement." 

Still glaring at Harry, Mulciber mumbles out. "Sorry for the inconvenience, Tom..."

"I'll let it pass this time." Tom turns his attention back to his breakfast, signifying the end of the conversion. 

(This is the moment when Harry realised that Tom will always be an intimidating bastard that is in control, even when he is just a student at Hogwarts, and that thought is so fucking creepy. Tom may be a teenager currently, but Tom is still and always will be absolute capable to wreck anyone anyway.)

The table back to their regular conversation, Harry stares at Hermione with a raised eyebrow. The silent message was clear, "Can we get the fuck outta this table as quickly as we can right now when we are still relatively unharmed?"

Picking up her drink, she lifts up her middle finger at him. Harry sends Hermione a confused look when Harry that her drink is a big ass cup of scolding coffee. 

Harry lets out an irritated sigh and decides to glare at his plate again. He can't help but feel jealous of the plate. Sat there having the time of it's plate life, unaware of it's surroundings. Maybe he should become a plate?

Drawn out of his thoughts by a light elbow to his side, Harry turns to see a bemused looking Tom. "Is this a hostage situation?"

After sending Hermione a venomous look, Harry shrugs at Tom. "And if I say yes?"

"That would be unfortunate."

'We can't have that." 

"We definitely cannot. So, hostage situation?" 

"No shit Sherlock."

"Are you aware that you are an absolute shit?" 

"Are you aware that you should fight me?" 

"Bring it, baby dick." 

"Maybe I will, you psychotic fu-"

The two are interrupted when Hermione flat out downs her whole drink at once. Her whole drink. Big add scolding hot coffee. Not some weak ass few gulps too. The people who were sat at the table watch at her in disbelieve. Putting down her finished glass she stares back at them unflinching. After a few seconds, she states, "You should all know that I can wreck all of you bitches.' Before standing up and striding out of the hall. 

"What the bloody hell just happened?!" Ron shouts, staring at where Hermione left in awe. 

"I don't know man, I don't even know." Harry answers, slowly shaking his head. 

Shrugging in response, Ron just sticks his fork into a strip of bacon and bites into it.

A boy with white hair who looked as if they were in 6th year sits where Hermione had been not long after the incident, "I see new blood. You guys are?"

"I'm Harry Evans."

Ron takes a break from eating his bacon, "And, I'm Ron Winfield." After saying his name he takes another large bite.

Nodding, the boy sticks out his hand to Ron. "My name is Abraxas Malfoy."

When Abraxas says his surname, Malfoy, Ron starts to choke on the bacon he had been eating. Still choking, Ron grasps Malfboy hand shakily and gives a strong tug before letting go and wrapping his arm around his stomach. After a minute, Ron finally stops. The table was quite a sight. Ron heaving heavily, tears in his eyes, Harry and Lestrange laughing their ass off at Ron's expense, Abraxas staring at his hand in disgust, Tom and Avery watching Ron with vague interest, and the rest staring at Ron with expressions that would make someone think he had just offered them a gang bang, and no one at the table offering any aid to Ron at all. 

Standing up from the table hurriedly, Ron meets Harry very amused face. "I'm done, I'm not even sorry!" He cries, wildly gesturing towards Abraxas. "This is just too much for me!"

Grabbing a few stripes of bacon blindly, Ron stomps out the direction that Hermione had left. 

The people who were left stared at Harry expectantly for an explanation about the events that just took place involving his friend. Harry amusement instantly fades away. 

Opening and shutting his mouth, Harry thinks up of a good reason for his friends behaviour. Coming to a conclusion, Harry straightens his back up. Crossing his arms, he rests them on the table and levels them all a "I have a great explanation that will make complete sense" look. 

Taking a deep breathe, he clears his throat. "So, I have a great reason for everything my friends just did that will blow all of your minds and will change your view of the world..." When Tom raises a definitely plucked eyebrow, Harry stands up and leaves the room, yelling over his shoulder at them. "Never mind, this is seriously a bunch of bullshit."

The Slytherin table turn their stare to Riddle, naturally expecting for him to supply them an explanation. Riddle huffs in annoyance at the great halls door before shrugging at the Riddle gang. "They're obviously bat shit crazy." 

Seeming pleased with that explanation, the boys resume to talking between themselves. 

 

A Ravenclaw girl sitting near the trio gave an aspirated sigh at the bullshit one of the new additions to Hogwarts was spouting, already certain that the new students of fourth year were going to lead to the hospital wing supplying many more potions for headaches to the students of Hogwarts than beforehand. Honestly, screaming about jerking off to butter? Releasing a huff, she marches over to the Hufflepuff table, sitting next to a surprised looking student and slamming a book she had been trying to read down on the table. Resting her hands flat on the table she glares down at the boy. "Speak too loudly and I will not hesitate to cut off your tongue." 

Nodding hastily, the boy rushes to say, "Alright, Myrtle." 

"Good choice." She says, flipping to the page she had been reading. Pausing, she looks at the boy she was next to, squinting at him in suspicion. "Wait, how do you know my name?" 

"Uh, I-I-I just, w-we have charms together. My name is Walter...I mean, um, Hopkins. Walter Hopkins." 

"Are you certain that is your name?" 

"To be honest, I'm not too sure right now. I mean, like, I'm pretty sure it is my name? I think I need a second to gather myself." He mutters sheepishly, face a light shade of red. 

"That's good enough for me, Walter." Myrtle sniggers, before continuing to read. Even Hopkins whimpers of embarrassment were easier for Myrtle to ignore than the new boy Harry's theatrics about fucking butter, a fact that Myrtle couldn't help but giggle at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dicks out for Harry, I said dicks out for Harry. (it's a Vine I'm not that weird okAy)


	3. everyone legitimately squares up to everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapters name honestly summaries this up. Like for real, so much squaring up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm weirdly starting to ship my bois Orion and Lestrange, so ohhh shit that's probably gonna add some plot lmao. If any of yall mind just comment and I might be able to control myself. 
> 
> And yes this took a while to get out lmao. But it's out I guess? I'll try and be quicker, I suck and all. 
> 
> Also, I made a fatal mistake. I made the best fucking character the sorting hat and finding reasons for the hat be in the story while be hard.

Of course Harry would have fucking potions first period. It wasn't like his day has already gone to shit. Harry and Ron were quick to pair up and sit at a cauldron at the back of the class. Slytherin and Hufflepuff being put together for potions had meant that Hermione was not able to damage control the train wreck that is Harry and Ron attempting to make potions. Basically, the whole class was doomed.

Professor Slughorn was a legend throughout the school from Harry's time. A legend for being the most successful kiss ass to ever graduate Hogwarts, even managing to beat that fake bitch that goes by the name Peter.

A fine example of Sluggy kiss ass ways is Tom Riddle. As in, Slughorn practically riding Tom's dick. 

Clapping his hands together, Slughorn gestures for the class to take their seats. Harry and Ron instantly rush to the back of the room, and dive into the two seats with a loud thump that surround the cauldron closes to the exit. This seems to pique their fellow classmates interest, if their gaping faces was any indication. 

"Are we expected to have to do a hymn before classes or something?" Ron whispers to Harry, rolling his eyes. "The bloody 1940s are fucking mental." 

At the sound of an offended gasp after Ron's comment, Harry sinks further into his seat. "You have no tact, shut the fuck up Ron."

"Ah, boys, I understand that you are new, so of course you won't know, but those seats aren't available for taking." Slughorn says, clearing his throat. 

"Oh, alright, my bad mate. Don't sweat it." Harry says coolly, straightening up. 

"Oh, thank you for understanding good chap! When Riddle and-"

"Hold up, who's seats are these?" Harry interrupts.

"Uh, Riddle and-"

"You know, Ron and I have actually decided we will stay where we are seated." 

"We have?" Ron questions, blinking at Harry in confusion. 

Harry gives Ron a small nod, sending him a pleading look. If Harry has to be stuck with the fucker that killed his parents, he can at least have the chair he wants.

Catching on, Ron gives an affirmative thumbs up. "Yeah, totally. We've already warmed up the seats and everything, bit late to move now, isn't it?" 

Slughorn wipes his hands against his trousers, "Come on, lads, isn't this a bit unnecessary?"

"Is there name tags?" Harry queries, leaning back on his seat.

Sluggy smiles nervously. Harry decides that it makes his face look like it's having a spasm. "Excuse me?" 

"I can't see Tom's name anywhere, can you Ron?" Ron overly dramatically looks around where they are sitting, and Harry makes a show of lifting himself up and scanning the chair he is sat on before going back down. "Nowhere to be seen where I am." 

"Same. Also, are seats assigned even before the first class begins? That's seems a bit like bull." Ron adds in.

Tom clears his throat, gaining the attention of the class. "This is just holding up class time, can you two move, please?" 

"Can we?" Ron sends Harry a thoughtful glance.

"Nah, I don't think so." 

"I guess we can't move then." Ron concludes, giving Tom a shrug, even if he looks a bit scared shitless that he is shrugging off the future Voldemort. 

Tom grits his teeth, but gives in before he loses his composure. "Alright, that's fine. Orion and I will just sit somewhere else."

Sluggy smiles nervously at Tom, "Are you sure?" 

"Teach already." Tom bites, taking the seat nearest him. Orion taking the seat across from Tom sends Harry and Ron the most "You fuckers are screwed." look while still appearing to not give a shit Harry has ever seen. Harry grins back at the expression. 

"If Tom cuts my dick off because of all of this, you are buying me a new penis as well as my first house."

"Or your dickless self will be content with having the best seats in the class and upping that mental creep." Harry preens, resting his feet on their table smugly. 

"It does feel good upping that weirdo." 

"I can hear the both of you from here, you asthmatic fucks." Tom deadpans, gaze still focused on Sluggy in the front of the class teaching. 

"Sorry, can't hear you from our amazing fucking seats!" Harry yells.

"Oh God, it better be a big size." Ron groans. 

"Which one?" Harry asks. 

"Both."

 

Harry grimaces at the sight of their cauldron. "I swear to God it shouldn't be bubbling Ron. What do you think?"

"Nah, it shouldn't be, we're definitely screwed." Ron hums, before stepping back, "Dips that I don't do the next step."

"Plonker." Harry says, eyeing the cauldron. "Can we just get Mr Slughorn to save it?" 

"Didn't he say he needed 20 minutes to gather himself after a particularly heated glare from Tom when he complimented your cutting skills?" 

The cauldron starts to bubble even more, much to the boys wariness. "We can take shelter behind his desk when we still have time?" 

At a particularly big bubbles birth, Ron hastily nods, "I second that plan." 

Much to the boys surprise, Orion strides over with a disgruntled looking Tom trailing behind. At the shocked looks Harry and Ron sported, Riddle rolls his eyes, "Don't jizz your pants, we just don't want to die because of you guys stupidity." 

"I can't say I am protesting such events." Harry mumbles. Wincing when Ron stands on his foot, he edges away from the cauldron giving them a better look. 

"How did you guys make it go green instead of purple? I didn't even realise that was possible." Orion comments, watching the cauldron in distaste, "You specials, why are there chunks?" 

"Did you guys just use billywig sting instead of billywig sting slime and a bat wing instead of a bat spleen?" Tom prods, because of course he would know what would cause such things. 

"Your mom did." 

"My mum is dead." Tom says blankly, grabbing the closest potions kit near him and opening it. 

"Your dad did."

"Also out of the picture. You know a lot about parents not being there anymore though, right?" Tom snarks, removing two small bottles of pearl dust and lemongrass from the potion kit. 

Voldemort commenting on Harry being an orphan, when he was the person who made him an orphan in the future. Harry is convinced he's going to have an aneurysm any second now. Before Harry can reply, Tom adds drops of lemongrass and pearl dust, causing the bubbles to lessen. 

"Put in honey too." Orion states, removing the honey bottle and tossing it at Tom, "It'll probably save the whole chunks problem." 

It does. Tom turns on his heel and strolls back over to his table, far too well executed and dramatic to not be practiced. What kind of fucking psycho practices walking? A douchebag called Tom Riddle is who. 

"You were totally ogling at his ass." Orion says drily.

"Hatefully ogling. Emphasis on the hatefully. Fuck loads of pure hatred." Harry corrects. 

"Still ogling, prick." 

"I prefer it when you're silently judging everyone. Silently." 

"I'm filling in for his role right now." Ron says, judgement clear on his face.

"It was very hatefully done!" Harry shouts. 

Orion sighs, looking at Harry as if he just said dubstep is underrated, "I'm out. Orion has left the lobby." 

"He's just like you, Harry." Ron snorts. "Get it, cause you like dick? If we were in a closet I would of pissed myself."

"I'm so excited to drop this fucking class." Harry huffs, "Also we're not in a fucking lobby!"

 

The boys marched out of potions as quickly as they could, Harry no risking even a glance back to see if anyone was going to try and snipe him. 

Ron splits away from Harry to head to transfiguration, whereas Harry goes to Herbology. After roughly an hour of Harry ignoring Lestrange throwing dirt at him, (when Harry asked why he was doing so he just said, "Orion broke my nose when I did it to him." and continued), and a group of Gryffindor constantly daring each other to eat the plants they were working with (two ended up being rushed to the hospital wing when they started vomiting after eating a particularly weird looking plant), he was finally out.

Tom was with the mini death eaters, and was immaculately clean even though they just had herbology and he actually did the work, which just isn't fair. Even Mother Nature rides his dick for Christ sake.

Rushing ahead he meets up with Hermione to go to charms, covered in dirt and lightly panting, he asks, "Can we please just skive the rest of the day?" 

"Don't go within 5 feet near me right now or get any dirt on me." Hermione replies instead of answering his question, "Isn't the difference of our time compared to now so weird though? Like, it's completely different teachers and learning material for this year. Also, I forgot that with Grindelwald happening right now teachers won't give much shits about us and be focusing on the war effort." 

"What is happening with Grindelwald currently?" Harry questions. 

"Right now, Dumbledore is getting heat for not intervening and stopping Grindelwald, but no one really understands why he isn't though. Not even in our time." 

"I bet they used to be lovers." Harry jokes. 

"Oh, maybe so." Hermione answers, completely serious.

"Really, wouldn't it have been mentioned at all if so?" 

"You would think so."

 

After an uneventful Charms period, Harry goes to transfiguration, excited to see how Dumbledore would be like in this time. 

Harry grabs a back seat, and waits eagerly for class to begin. Professor Dumbledore is sat at his table, silently observing the class until the last student arrives. 

Tom doesn't care to voice his opinions quietly, and that Dumbledore would clearly hear him saying, "This watching quietly gig doesn't make him look nearly as wise as he thinks it does."

Dumbledore ignores him, standing up and leaning over his desk, resting his hands on it, he levels them all a calculating stare, before saying, "I'm gay, you hetero losers. Deal with it bitches." 

"Every fucking year." Tom sneers.

"You'd think he'd stop saying that by now with how many parents have complained about it." Avery says. 

"You'd think the parents would stop bitching by now." Dumbledore remarks, nodding along to what he said as if it was an intellectual statement.

"You appall me." Tom deadpans. 

"I'm queer and I'm here, suck it up." 

"Like you suck dick." Tom drawls. 

"Exactly! Now get out your textbooks and go to page 4 class!" Dumbledore says cheerfully. 

"I fucking hate him." Tom seethes. 

"Blatant homophobia." Dumbledore replies effortlessly.

"I'm not homophobic, Christ sake, I hate you specifically, you fucking goat." 

"Good for you, Tom." Dumbledore hums.

Harry is the only one in the classroom gaping, probably meaning everyone in the year was used to this behaviour, leaving Harry to be baffled by himself.

"That just fucking happened..." Harry mumbles to himself, shaking his head in disbelief. 

 

Dumbledore commences the end of class by saying, "Get out all of you heterosexuals." 

"What the fuck is his problem?" Harry exclaims the second he leaves the class.

"It's as if he was being rewritten by a person who is bitter about the non existent LGBT+ representation in a series and is overcompensating without being subtle at all." Orion suggests. 

At the multiple what the fuck looks he receives, he simply shrugs, "Just a suggestion."

"Maybe he's just a big fan of dick." Lestrange says, the rest of the Riddle gang nodding their agreement.

 

Immediately when Harry sits for lunch, he swipes for the sharpest knife he can see and puts it in his ropes pocket.

"For under my pillow when I sleep." He explains to a confused Hermione. 

"Oh My God, please be joking." She sighs. At the lack of response, Hermione looks up at the ceiling as if to say, "Why me?" 

"Mate, that might be a bit mental." Ron says.

"You'll all be fucking jealous when I'm the one who is still alive." 

"Sure. Anyway, I've been doing research on time-travel in the library whenever I have been able to, and I'm not going to lie, the results have been pretty shit so far. Majority of leads will need to be contacted from different countries, the only people that I have found that would be useful to contact in Britain would be the Nott family. They are very prestigious when it comes to time travel." 

"Hey, didn't we meet a Nott!?" Ron questions.

"Yeah, Theodore Nott. Pretty sure he's in our year or the one above. Definitely is in the Riddle gang." Harry informs. 

"That's partly why I wanted to talk to them. Getting information from him might be useful." Reaching out, she grabs the knife from Harry robe.

"Hey!" Hermione hits his hand when he tries to get the knife back. "Can I just have it back?"

"Of course you aren't getting it back. Don't bloody ask again."

"Give it back."

"Harry."

"Jesus Christ. I seriously need it. This is a matter of survival."

"For fuck sake!"

"I need it, you inconsiderate bitch!"

'You dumb fuck, someone having their eyebrows plucked is not a good enough reason to sleep with a knife under your pillow.' Hermione deadpans. 

'How about that person with the plucked eyebrows being fucking baby Voldster?'

"Riddle is actually sane right now. Like you care about that fact more than the eyebrows at the moment." Hermione scoffs. 

"They're seriously plucked."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione stands up. "I'm going to the library, dumbass. Make sure Ron doesn't choke on anything when I'm gone."

"You don't meet people from your times grandfathers in the past very often, for Merlin sake, it was one time!"

 

Divination was bullshit. The teacher seemed to be an absolute nutter, which is apparently a requirement for teaching this subject considering the way their times divination teacher, Sybill Trelawney, had been bloody mental. 

Hermione, though she had taken this subject last year, took ancient ruins instead of divination, probably due to this class driving her insane last year, so badly to the point of dropping it. In the class was himself and Ron, as well as Lestrange and Orion. 

"Welcome back, I've missed you untalented ducklings!" She pauses at Lestrange, who appears to be wearing a shawl over his face, "Still taking my speciality area as a piss take then?" 

"Shouldn't you be able to tell him, being psychic and all, Miss Blackwater?" Orion asks, sarcasm dripping from his words. 

"My psychic powers can tell you're still a sour and miserable nuisance, that has no talent for the eye."

Eyebrow raised, he leans back in his seat, "Isn't that a bit wordy to be able to see in a cup of tea?" 

"I still can't believe you and your close minded self passed last year." She snarks.

"It is surprising he did, considering how hard it is to look into a ball and make up sentences." Lestrange chips in, lifting the shawl from his face.

Making an irritated noise, she hisses, "Stop calling them balls, they are crystal balls. And take that bloody shawl off, for Merlin sakes...However, mentioning crystal balls, can everyone come to the front of the class and collect a crystal ball for their table! If you break any of them, I'll make sure to give you all bad omens which will guarantee your deaths."

"If only it meant fuck all." Harry grumbles, hesitantly standing up and collecting a crystal ball to share with Ron. 

During the double period, Ron and Harry had proceeded to make up prophecies including Jesus being reincarnated after the next 57 full moons, badgers being extinct by 300 years, leading to the Hufflepuff spirit to crumble from within and changing their animal to a gerbil with great sadness and that in the future they see Miss Blackwater owning 8 cats and then sacrificing them for cult purposes. 

Miss Blackwater had looked close to throwing one of her crystal balls into a wall. Especially when Lestrange had loudly predicted that she was going to die alone. Harry swears that he saw Orion mouth twitch up at that, the closest thing to a smile Harry had seen from the boy yet. When Miss Blackwater tried to give Lestrange in trouble, Orion had simply interjected, asking her, “Should he ignore the eye? That's rather close minded of you, Miss.” 

Walking from the classroom when divination had been finished for the day, Harry abruptly stops when he hears a whisper. "Oh, shit." 

"You okay, Harry? What is it, mate?" Ron asks, shaking Harrys' shoulder lightly. 

Harry was not okay. That is because he just heard something that he hasn’t heard since Year 2. The hiss of a snake, that snake saying, "Bush did 9/11, oh also kill". Harry has no fucking clue what the fuck Bush did 9/11 means, but he does know what kill means. That being something very bad.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have a beta, but I have memes, a pissed off hat, and eyebrows that may or may not be plucked.


End file.
